I Had Plans
by PrettyUnteal
Summary: You have to relate with the main character. Writers do this so you can put yourself in their shoes. You are supposed to; root for her, love her and rage against the thing who has done her wrong. But I can tell you, I'm not the best main character. Every time they've had me re-tell my story, I know no one thinks I'm making it out in one piece...If I make it out at all. (3rd Person)
1. Prologue

The face you can use to cover truth is one of the strongest parts about us. It is stubborn, it is unrelenting, and it is based on a cornerstone of who we are that is much stronger than our core.

At our core; what do we want? To feel accepted? To have power? To be safe?

You can't walk around with those desires outside of you. You put on your face to get what you want.

Except, of course, him.

He wears the face he wants, he walks it, he breathes it in and he _acts_ on it.

It's been six months since I spent six hours in his presence.

I'm not sure what it means that for most of the time since, he's been on my mind. For that, you'd have to ask my therapist.

Me? I'm just in it for the ride, now.


	2. Truth over Tea

_What was it like… before the incident?_

"I had a plan."

 _What was your plan?_

"Well…It wasn't always special. Even that morning the plan was to get coffee.

I kissed my husband goodbye. He was still stubbly from a hard night but he'd already brushed his teeth. It was the perfect kiss of a newlywed.

For three months before the wedding I was up and out of bed every morning at 5:00 to do thirty minutes of cardio and thirty minutes of body sculpting. Then, because it was Gotham, I would also take a self defense class once a week. So, my body was now trained for many things. Unfortunately, it was still trained to get up before dawn in the winter.

My coat was thick and warm enough to stand the walk, so… I walked and I buried my face into this plaid scarf my sister got me, just trying to keep my nose from running. It was early enough and chilly enough where there was not much out to distract me except the icicles that hung from the end of the tiniest branches… I remember everything weirdly well. It's like it all makes sense now."

It was at that moment that the vacant gray eyes seemed to fixate above her interrogator's head. She remembered all of it. She just wasn't sure if she could trust even her own memory.

"I thawed within seconds of stepping into the coffee shop. Even if I hadn't, I still would have noticed the stare from the barista. It took me a moment to find my voice to place my order. Cinnamon dolce latte."

 _Are you telling me that you think the Joker was taking your order for coffee behind the counter?_

"No…No. But it was someone who worked for him."

 _What makes you say that?_

"Because… that's when it started."

He had steady hands. That's what she recalled most. She felt surely that they were hands who could forge iron and from the quick brush of callouses, and maybe he did. After she left, she'd muttered a thank you, feeling flustered.

It wasn't uncommon for her to get attention from men. It wasn't as if he was unattractive himself. It was just the coal black eyes that seemed to burn through her. It would be months before she realized what they burned with. It wasn't as if he was taken with her. They burned with recognition.

"He was supposed to give me his number… The Joker put someone in my favorite coffee shop. He made sure he was attractive enough that he'd leave an impression. He got lucky…"

She paused a moment

"Or maybe he'd been trying for a while and this was the first time he got me. I don't know. "

 _Why would the Joker have sought you out?_

Mae was still for a moment too long for a normal person to be comfortable with. Luckily the woman before her was quite used to strange behaviors. So far, Mae was one of her easiest clients.

"I don't… think he was the Joker yet. Not really. Or at least not openly."

She bit the inside of her lips. The edges of them were perforated from her attention, a habit she'd picked up to bite back every ounce of paranoia. Anything to keep up the façade that she still sought to give out. Even if absolutely no one would ever believe her again.

"I went home that morning. I got dressed for work. That's a blur. Or at least, I don't really trust my memories… I wanna say that I remember in hindsight some strange man at the bottom of the stairs. Or maybe my phone rang once and it wasn't just a wrong number but a heavily veiled threat."

She waved her hand. "Hindsight is 20/20 but the more I talk about it… the more my story gets confused. I don't even know… what to believe anymore."

 _Let's start with what you remember. This is a safe space where you can speak your truth the best you can, it doesn't have to be perfect._

The blonde stopped herself from biting down on the delicate skin of the inside of her cheek this time. She was sure that by the end of a very long first session, it would be ripped to shreds. She was hoping to prolong that time for the sake of her own mouth's wellbeing.

"I think… I had it all wrong from the very beginning. But I don't know if it's true anymore."

Dimly she recognized the whistling in her head as she glanced up. Her eyes had always been gray but now they were an ashen color that belied nothing of substance. The whistling grew louder and finally she glanced meaningfully at the stove where the kettle was screaming.

The woman opposite her got up to retrieve it. Her movements were controlled. Mae wanted to believe that it was just in her therapist's nature, but she also knew that everyone had started moving like that around her ever since…

Well, ever since she changed.

Once the tea was in front of her, steaming and somehow fascinating to a person who wasn't permitted much outside of these for walls, Mae sighed. She put her hands over it, almost as if to warm them even as she felt the sweat between her shoulder blades. She'd told the story a million times, had it combed over by a thousand people, and she still felt that there was not one person in the world who she wouldn't be nervous to tell.

 _I'm going to start taping now, as long as your comfortable with that. It will help us go over your sessions and ensure that we can work through this together._

Mae nodded imperceptibly but the woman pressed the button of the recorder regardless.

 _Just try to tell it how it happened, in chronological order if you can. You can go back if you have to and take whatever breaks you need._

Mae nodded her on, almost dismissing the advice. She knew, much like the kettle screamed once it was ready, she wouldn't be able to stop once she started.

"It was winter in Gotham. I was just married to the perfect man, in the perfect apartment downtown Gotham, with a job I loved… I had plans for the perfect life."


	3. Dread

Three days later and I finally texted the number that was left on my coffee cup.

 _Thank you, I'm flattered but I'm married. -Mae_

She wouldn't have remembered the significance of the exchange except for the fact that the number had texted her back before she could even put her phone down.

 _Not for long._

Mae wasn't sure what the barista meant, but if it was supposed to scare her and prevent her from going back to the coffee shop—then it was very effective.

She was waiting in traffic, at a red light, when her phone pinged. Assuming it was her husband, she picked it up at eye level to watch the light. However, this was a phone number that wasn't stored in her phone.

 _How about dinner. Italian at our place?_

Mae screwed up her face. The light chose an opportune moment to switch and she hesitantly lifted her foot off the gas. She ordinarily didn't drive to work because a downtown area during rush hour was like hell even in her Lexus. However, she was temporarily thanking the universe for the stop and go congestion of the road so she could look at the phone again.

Sure enough it wasn't any number she'd texted before. Her mind had went back to the barista but she checked to make sure his conversation was saved in her phone. She'd had half a mind to show it to the manager so she could return to the closest café to the apartment. However, she somehow did the thing that most women do when they feel threatened or awkward. She avoided it and pretended it didn't happen or wasn't as bad as she was afraid it was.

This was going to be another one of those moments.

….

"I've gone over the story so many times. I wish I'd gotten help sooner…"

The brunette in front of her had a neutral expression on her face. She was obviously good at what she did. Most would have already been asking her, _"Was it the Joker who was texting you this time?"_ and she honestly wouldn't have known the answer anyway. So, it was especially nice not to be asked. Instead the woman tilted her head and gestured vaguely.

 _Would it have changed anything?_

Mae wanted to say yes. It bubbled up in her throat. A weak sense of self preservation and need for control still lingered even after her world had crumbled in less than a year. Instead she swallowed and remembered her pledge for truth.

"No…"

Even after promising the truth, the sound of it surprised her. It sounded like such a shock, and she wasn't sure, but it seemed as if Dr. Phillips had twitched a look of questioning disbelief. Mae had learned the hard way that projection snuck into everything, so she ignored it and pretend that her answer surprised no one. Still, she felt the need to soften it.

"I have gone over what I could have done differently… But everything seems too inevitable. Like I would have ended up here, regardless."

Mae's gray gaze tripped when they wandered over the recorder. She remembered herself and continued as if she was the only person in the room.

….

Her husband got home 2 and a half hours later. She remembered because she'd been waiting to show him the text that she got. She needed another opinion. In fact, she was waiting for him in particular because she thought that he would go protective newlywed on her and demand that she block the number and connect it to harassment of the barista. That's what she wanted.

Because the biggest fear in so many cases is much worse than the reality ever is, still, we need to feel protected from it. It was so beyond her to consider that the worst she feared was nowhere in the same game as what would happen to them down the road.

So when her husband came home with _Angeli's_ on the bag he so proudly came in with, she almost shrieked. Controlling herself only had so much effect because she still shot up from the couch in such a way that she scared Adrian enough where he dropped it.

"Christ, Mae… What are you doing?"

She was already circling, eyes wide and gesturing with her phone.

"Italian? Italian… Oh Christ." She sighed outwardly. "You don't… Did you…? Did you text me?"

He looked mystified. Almost certain that he was guilty for something, though he wasn't quite sure what.

"No… I'm sorry, I should have. Did we have… plans? I'm sorry, honey."

She wasn't listening. That was clear from her body language. She'd retracted the phone that she'd thrust accusingly in his direction and instead was opening up to the text message.

"I got a text from some number I don't know, asking me for Italian at our place and…Oh damn, it's eight! Look, it's eight!"

It was clear that he was confused, but the look of protective concern had already come over him. His brow and his shoulders lowered as he came to her in two swift strides to look at the screen.

"…A coincidence?"

She was frozen, staring at the screen as if waiting for it to answer for itself.

"…Maybe but…" She exhaled heavily as her eyes fluttered shut to protect herself from his expression she knew he would make. "This barista hit on me and he texted me saying that we wouldn't be married soon… Or something. I don't know. It just seems like two creepy texts that might be connected some way."

He seemed to consider for a moment but he only missed a beat in realizing something. "Wait, how does our barista have your number?"

She grimaced lightly, opening her eyes to make sure her sincerity shone through. "He gave me his number. I only texted him to say like; thanks, but no thanks. Promise."

He batted her promise lethargically out of the air. He went to go back to the entryway into the living room to pick up the bag, checking only briefly inside to ensure that not everything had toppled out of it's carry out boxes. "Kinda sounds like maybe you do have someone messing with you." She was already nodding her head, glad to be taken seriously. "Tomorrow we can go and put in a complaint with the manager. Guy is stepping over his bounds." At this she started shaking her head.

"No, I don't want to make a fuss. I just wanted to tell you because I got spooked." She looked doubtfully at the bag she knew was filled with all sorts of pasta and cheese and other amazing things. "And that is pretty weird… You got Italian."

He'd laughed at her. Things seemed okay once he was home. She'd always considered herself to be an independent woman but there was everything reassuring about having a man come home. Like his very presence would deter an ambiguously threatening text from ever getting to her phone.

In some ways she must have been right. She was at work when she got the next text. This one shot down to her gut in a cold wave of nausea.

If someone else saw her phone they would have only seen a small image come up of a blonde haired woman in a caramel colored overcoat. Maybe it would have been all right if she didn't own that exact coat and walked on that exact street and, oh, owned that exact Burberry scarf.

It was her. She was looking at an image of herself. Taken without notice from somewhere up by her head.

 _A security camera? But how…?_

Her chest felt tight. Her palms suddenly hot and balled up under her desk according to the rest of the tension that radiated through her body.

"Stella! Stella… Stella."

She whisper shouted over her cubicle even as she frantically came out of her seat as if her phone could somehow hear her.

Stella, thank goodness, wasn't with a client. She was already poking her head out of her corner office to look pointedly toward the blonde invading her office.

"Stella, look."

Mae suddenly felt like she couldn't breathe so she was out of touch with what she was saying. However her body was filled with purpose. Stella looked down at the phone that was pushed underneath her nose. She even put a hand out below Mae's to steady the thrust out grip in front of her.

"It's cute." She surmised, looking back to Mae with a smile. "Did Adrian take it?"

Mae was already shaking her head hard enough where the effortlessly coiffed blonde pieces flapped around her cheekbones.

"No! I don't know who did. But it's me right? I'm not crazy!"

Stella was looking like she had to think very hard on that question, one eyebrow raised.

"Well I assumed it was you… but I guess you can't see the face… and it's kind of grainy…" By the end of her statement, Stella's brown eyes grew wide. "Wait, you don't know if it's you? Like you don't know who sent it?"

Mae gestured emphatically to emphasize the conclusion that Stella had come to.

"Oh my… god…" They were both whisper shouting. There was no telling when a client would come in and need to speak to a consultant. In fact, at that moment, they both turned as a man and his daughter awkwardly sidled into the view of the doorway. "Hello." Stella switched on her professional face without a beat but then snapped back to Mae. "We'll talk more during lunch."

…

"So… you think it's this guy from the coffee shop?"

They had an hour for lunch but that didn't stop Stella from ensuring that she could get as much of the turkey sandwich in her mouth as possible. She was a mom of two, so meal time was trained to be a fast event.

Mae raised her eyebrows and sat a little further back in her seat with slumping shoulders. "I don't know…" Idly she twirled the stirrer in her coffee. She bitterly missed her café. "It seems a little to advanced if it really is me on a security camera."

Stella stopped chewing and was staring at her with a wide-eyed and stony expression, "You need to go to the police."

The corners of Mae's mouth turned down slightly. "Maybe… Or maybe this can all be solved by going back to the café with Adrian."

Stella threw her hands up to her side in a quick stabbing motion as if to say _What the hell would that do?_ Because of course she couldn't answer with a mouth full of poultry and provolone.

"Well!" Mae interjected, "Maybe this is some misunderstanding. Maybe the guy has some emotional problems and needs a wake up and not potential jail time…" Her eyes shifted over to her coffee that she was now gripping a bit too tightly. "Maybe he just needs a warning and he'll stop."

…

She trailed a half step after Adrian's wide steps. Like she thought, he'd wanted to go to the café more than call the police. Then again it wasn't his image taken by a security camera and sent to him from yet another unknown number. Once they hurried in, she wasn't sure if she was relieved or pissed that it wasn't the barista at the front.

Instead, it was a face she recognized just as readily, the manager. That, at least, she was thankful for. As much as she was half wishing that Adrian would defend her honor and drag that skinny bastard who was stalking her across the counter by his rumpled collar… She wanted answers and safety much more.

"Jim…" Mae smiled behind Adrian's shoulder as she stepped forward. It was an easy name to remember given that the name _Jim's Beans_ and if he looked surprised at her expression then it didn't show.

"What can I get you?"

She breathed a sigh of relief and opened up her palms. "Actually, before I order—" which she would, because she missed this coffee, "I have a question for you."

He stopped stacking the bistro mugs behind the counter and gave her the nonverbal cue of _go ahead?_

For a moment, however, she couldn't. How could she fully relay her concern, her suspicion and her paranoia in one question. Luckily, Adrian stepped forward physically and with his intentions. "We have a question about one of your baristas." He looked pointedly at her, and then Jim did as well and she realized this in enough time to turn and start describing him.

"Well he wasn't too tall or short. Dark hair, longish, skinny…" She paused, wondering if this last detail was too strange. It was thankful that she thought about it because already recognition had dawned on Jim's face.

"Max…When was the last time you saw him?"

Mae didn't have to think about it. "December 12th."

Jim let out a breath that he'd apparently been holding. He put his large hands on the counter and seemed to think a second. "That was the last time we saw him too. He's in the hospital now, ever since."

It was hard to tell who was more fixated on the manager, was it the blonde woman who had been unnerved or was it the man who thought that he needed to protect her?

"Did he… say something to you? Or behave strangely?"

Mae nodded. She went to bite the inside ofher lip, but remembered at the last moment she was wearing her favorite Estee Lauder lipstick and thought better of it. "It was… the way he looked at me… I thought…"

Very suddenly came the realization that the man who she thought was stalking her was in the hospital. The likelihood of the situation was narrowing rapidly. Adrian, thankfully, jumped in.

"Someone has been harassing her since she saw him. She…" He took a beat to consider his wording, despite the fact that Mae appeared to be staring too hard at the counter to be listening. "We…Thought it might be the barista…Max. Because of the uh, timing of it."

Jim's face screwed upt; his eyebrows came lower and his lips came down at the corners. "He was taken to the hospital that night. I found him in the morning out back by his car, terrified of something…" Jim leaned forward. "He wasn't himself, he was talking all sorts of…"

It was hard to tell if Jim suddenly had a realization that he shouldn't be saying this, or perhaps his glazed expression was from remembering the sight. His new barista had been on the ground attempting to cover his face and his mouth while whimpering _they're all gone._ Jim's eyes became downcast, their dark brown hue appearing to have lost its depth in sympathy.

"They say it was Fear Gas… Or at least something like it." With a brief shake of his head he finally returned his eyes back to the two. Mae could see the strange trio from a point outside of their body. Two well dressed couple and one slightly shabby looking café manager who looked much worse for the wear than normal. However, what she couldn't picture was the expression on her face. Was she sympathetic? Shocked? Or in dread that their primary suspect seemed to be out of commission… or hopped up on tear gas somewhere and responding to her based on that.

"I'm sorry if he scared you, but unfortunately I can't help beyond that."

….

That night she went to bed with all the questions in her head and they got louder everytime she'd attempt to close her eyes. Finally she got up, wrapping her robe around her lithe frame. It was one of her favorites. It was a cream silk with lace detailing and some floral stitiching around the collar. It made her skin shine and it was short enough to make her 5'8" frame seem like she was a mile tall. Ordinarily this made her feel like a lounging goddess. At them moment, however, she craved a simple bath robe that would chase away the chill. She didn't want to bother Adrian in his own bed.

It was common to sleep apart in their marriage. She liked to view it as a convenience, but in truth, she favored the snuggles and missed them dearly when they were apart. Unfortunately, Adrian was a _very_ light sleeper and couldn't sleep soundly especially with her in the room. So, instead she got up and went to the vanity. What else should you do when you're not sleeping except go put on a face mask and go make tea?

So that's what she did.

On the way back upstairs, after her belly was full of chamomile, she glanced over at her phone on her nightstand automatically given it was the only light in the dark room. She continued on for half a step before dread formed in her stomach.

Maybe it was just an email notification at 11 o clock at night. Or maybe…

She went over to the nightstand as if she was a blind person. Holding out her arms and searching out every step with her feet she made her way slowly to the light of the phone. It shone like a beacon until abruptly going off. She paused. If it was a text, wouldn't it have stayed lit up on the screen?

Feeling slightly more at ease, but just as curious she ventured forward and saw that it had been a call from yet another unknown number.

She didn't even know what to believe was an accident anymore.

So, hesitantly, she pressed the screen to return the call.

It rang for a few moments on the other line. In those two rings, she thought she'd pictured every possible scenario that could happen, but she didn't. There was definitely one impossibility she hadn't even dared to think of.

Suddenly, the ringing wasn't just on the other line and coming from her phone.

It was ringing somewhere outside of her bedroom door.

….

 **AN:** A cliffhanger and I know it! I really appreciate those of you who have been reading along so far. It's been a while since I published in this fandom but _The Dark Knight_ appeared on Netflix, and I was immediately sucked back into TDK world. In case you haven't guessed—this is pre-Joker era. Don't worry, Adrian is **not** going to transform into our favorite clown.


	4. The Devil You Know

**AN:** Finally! The Joker, Jack, will be appearing next chapter. For now, Mae is losing her mind. I'd love a Beta Reader if anyone reading is interested. Enjoy!

For a long time, Mae stared at the tea in front of her. It was cold by now. Dr. Phillips watched her patiently, but once it appeared that her patient was not responding to the imploring stare alone, she inquired, "What were you thinking the moment you realized that the phone was ringing in your house?"

Mae's eyes grew wide, though they did not shift from their intense focus of the cup. "I thought… That someone was in my house…That I was going to fight… That I was going to die. I thought a lot of things."

Now, her face screwed up, she pinched the bridge of her nose. The fingers may still have been long and pale with a slight dusting of freckles, but time had not left them alone. Now, instead of having well manicured nails with French tips, they were bitten down to the skin, bloody with a slight shake.

" I didn't know what to do though. Adrian was out there, asleep. I didn't want to scream and have him run into the hallway… So I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. Called the police…"

Finally, her attention shifted. Though she still didn't look toward the woman sitting across from her. Somewhere outside the window there was a robin at her bird feeder. That was what she looked like when she recited,

"They came and did a search of the house. We told them everything and they found no one. No sign of forced entry and no one had entered the lobby on the cameras…But they took us seriously. Wanted to see the picture and the numbers. They stayed for a while, and while they were there they really questioned Adrian as much as me."

She shrugged, though it was to cover up the shudder that went down her spine everytime she thought of Adrian.

"…. I don't want to talk anymore."

Dr. Phillips nodded and she was already getting up. "Tomorrow then, 4:30."

Mae nodded, it's not as if she had a choice and not like she was going anywhere anyway. However, the illusion of control didn't slip even after everything. "4:30."

…

From that point on, the calls had been sporadic. The texts, however, had been a constant. They were always fond sentiments that felt like vaguely veiled threats because they showed too much insight into what was going on in her life.

Mae had a decent relationship with her father. He'd called and asked for an update. She had given him one but it had felt like a lie because she didn't include the calls… or the texts… In fact, she hadn't even updated Stella on the development since the night the phone rang in her house. She was sure it did… so sure. Despite police questioning she knew that phone from an unknown number had called her from inside the house. Even though she didn't tell anyone, she knew what her dad would have said.

So that next morning she bought a gun.

It was a reliable and safe model. Hand held. She'd had her gun carrying liscesence since she'd been old enough. Her dad had lived in the Narrows for part of his childhood and he'd lived in Gotham his whole life. He never trusted cops. Still didn't.

…

That night, Mae remembered the weight of the gun in her hand and it was so heavy that she couldn't sleep. She remembered when the dark shifted to dawn and the birds woke up.

She never even had nightmares anymore. You couldn't, when you didn't sleep.

The whole night, the gun had tugged on her arm and her very soul. It was funny, the real thing had never been that heavy. Now that it was full of memory, her hand and back ached with It as she got out of bed. She wished she could go to yoga. Or get a massage. Or both. At the same time.

Instead, she'd laid on the floor and started to stretch her back and ended up falling asleep at 7 am.

…..

At 4:27, a knock woke her up so suddenly it was as if she hadn't been asleep. Mae went to the door in a quick burst of energy. The bad thing about being on house arrest was the lack of physical excersize. Then again, that probably wasn't the old bad thing. However, it was at the forefront of her mind when she'd wake up and get into a sprint for the door and then feel her heart pounding.

"Dr. Phillips, good morning- well, afternoon."

"Yes…" The doctor said slowly. Dr. Phillips may have been pushing 70. That didn't stop her from wearing a dark green silk button down and pants that showed off her trim figure. She was stern looking, but in a way that she would have looked like a just and fair sea captain. Or Mae just didn't have anything to do but read and she was seeing things. Whichever one. Mae was court mandated to have daily talk therapy but Dr. Phillips never pushed her way in. In fact, she was still waiting at the door to be invited.

Mae got the clue and stepped aside, opening the door even further. "Please come in."

Once they got settled and the kettle was put on, Mae had already started swallowing back the torrent of confessions that she'd wanted to make all last night. She had to force herself to wait and Dr. Phillips seemed to be taking an unusually long time getting it set up.

"We left off yesterday that the police took you seriously but found nothing." She reminded her client in a neutral tone, despite the fact that Mae's leg was bouncing fast enough to be a blur.

"Yeah, so, I started getting texts and calls. Not threatening, so Adrian said the police couldn't do much but they felt like threats hanging over my head. So, I bought a gun…"

She felt the presence in her hand again and she flexed her fingers to rid herself of it.

….

Maybe the gun had given her confidence or perhaps lack of sleep had made her stupid, but one morning Mae found herself responding to one of the many unknown numbers that had just texted her an innocuous _Good Morning. Have a good day at the bank._

So, she replied _Thanks, sweetie._

However, her iPhone message had immediately turned green. She'd seen that before back in college when one of her friends would block another it wouldn't deliver so the iMessage feature was disabled. Feeling more than a little ballsy, she responded again. _Text me good morning and then block me? Rude, man._

The rest of the day went by smoothly. For a while she'd kept her eye on the phone. Adrian's conversation about how they needed to make threats for the police to take it seriously was bothering her. She was sure she could have gotten a threat if the person would engage with her.

She'd taken to driving to work now, the paranoia of the bus after being called from inside of her own house had been too much to deal with. She sat there attempting to analyze the motives of strangers around her. Was it that man in the hoodie? Was it the woman with the shopping cart? Hell, was the kid in front of her a decoy?

So, this was the life she was living. On the upside, she got home usually even earlier than she usually did so her husband was far off from being home. However, where she used to take solace in their solitude, now she felt consistently that eyes were on her.

To keep busy, she began wandering listlessly through the rooms to find things to do. The maid that came in did most of the cleaning, so that wasn't much of an option. Instead she meandered. Entering her husband's sleeping room, the guest bedroom she glanced around. The bed, of course, was made perfectly already. The closet was stuffed with fresh linens and empty hangers. The nightstand was clear and the small bookshelf was well stocked and perfectly stacked. She entertained the thought of picking up a book, but instead she decided to take them all out and organize them by height… or maybe color. She'd decide once they were all a disaster on the floor. However, once she pulled out the top shelf there was a sight that froze her core.

A phone.I


	5. The Devil You Don't Know

Mae had planned for the day to go a little differently. For example, she was going to go to work, she was going to come home and not be paranoid, read for an hour while Adrian watched his favorite talk show and they would make love and she would shower and then they would go to bed.

This was not going according to plan.

She'd thrown everything off of her as if it seared her skin. In fact, she might have even screamed. Her long limbs scrambled in uncharacteristic grace. She'd been a fast runner, always had the body built for it, but this time it felt like her limbs were all attached to a different puppeteer's strings. Each one pulling on their own limb just in an attempt to coordinate.

She was filled with the same thought that had taken up the vestiges of her mind ever since the stalker's phone rang in her house; I need to get out of here, I need to run I need to run I need to…

So she ran.

The only thing that had changed in her thought process was _who_ she was running from. Right now, it seemed the only logical explanation was...

She couldn't wait for the elevator. It was lucky that she'd had on slip on shoes or else that wouldn't have been something worth pausing for. She was, at the moment, entirely positive that her husband should be home at any minute and that was the threat that made her move. Because that was the only thing that made sense.

How was it that the stalker had always known where she was? How did they have the resources to keep following her. Why did Adrian run with her gut that she thought it was the barista?

It was him, it was her husband, it was Adrian.

So she ran.

She was panicking. Not thinking clearly. When she thrust herself out inside the Gotham winter air. Now she'd gotten the hint to walk at a quick pace. Maybe toward the coffee shop? Would they let her use their phone? Sure enough she was not going back into her apartment to get it. She was looking over her shoulder, paranoid, when suddenly she saw a dark blue car behind her… and then she promptly ran into someone.

They were hard and taut like a live wire even under a thick coat that concealed most of their face. Though to be honest, she'd barely even glanced. Her head was twisted impossibly at a 180 degree angle and her hands had frozen up in front of her as a delayed way to ward off the impact.

"Help me!" She frantically whispered to the stranger. They observed her through eyes dark as coal, set in a deep trance on her face. "Quick, please, pretend to be my friend… I can't let him see me, please!" She was desperate and begging a stranger and even in her whirlwind she knew that any sane person was going to deny her. Then she was going to be standing on the street without a coat and running from her husband.

This wasn't a sane person. In a moment she had a wool covered arm around her shoulders and bringing her in close as if under some great wing. Her pulse and brain were racing while the stranger took a leisurely time in turning them around so they were going in the opposite way of her husband's car. Still, they'd have to move fast in order to escape her husband's notice and she went to make a move that would speed up a very slow pace that the tall creature to the left of her had already set. She felt the hand on the side of her arm tense in warning. She couldn't see what for and she thought that her panic could get no higher as the blue car parallel parked right next to them. She had suddenly evolved into a creature that could hear the car door slamming even over the busy street they lived on. She could hear the jingle of keys and even imagine she heard Adrian's footsteps and they were… going away from them.

Was it possible that he hadn't seen her? It seemed to be an option only possible in another universe where her husband was an idiot. She attempted to turn her head to see, missing a step in the pace that the stranger had already chosen but she felt the hand squeeze her bicep again and a delicate _sh sh sh sh shh_ passed through a set of teeth that she couldn't see underneath the coat. Her eyes were wide and she was sure that every nerve of her brain was firing because her entire body was prepared to sprint.

However, they walked leisurely all the way to the bus stop on the corner when the man, she thought they were a man at least, released her the way a tree releases a leaf in the fall. Truthfully she felt like she was some floating leaf, suddenly alone in very cold air and she blinked as if coming out of a hypnosis. The world seemed to be passing by in slow motion and abruptly her attention switched to the tall male in front of her. He couldn't have been much taller than average, and he was covered in black head to toe like most Gothamites were during this time- but there was something strange about the way that all the air seemed to collapse inward on the focal point of the stranger in front of her. Truly she couldn't tell if it was the adrenaline or it was the mere force of the person before her, but she suddenly felt very insignificant and very… very… exposed.

Frantically she gestured and then stepped underneath the bus stop's minimal shelter. At least it had three walls and a modicum of privacy except for the middle aged woman huddled on the bench with a shopping cart full of yarn. He obliged, her, not because he seemed he wanted to, but because he was curious. His head cocked to the side he rounded on her in the same measured movements that they walked here in.

"I need help…" She whispered conspiratorially, her voice hoarse as if she'd been screaming and smoking a pack of cigarettes.

He inclined his head as if to say _I got that already, tell me with what._

She stared up at him, unable to see any skin except around his eyes and they were some of the darkest she'd ever seen. Especially in a face so pale.

She opened her mouth, transfixed on his eyes and suddenly she didn't know what to say. He watched her open and close her mouth several times when the bus stopped before them. She ripped her attention away and it tore like duct tape on bare skin.

Somehow understanding what she wanted, he moved toward the bus, putting a hand on her shoulder as he did. He got onto the bus before her and she could at least notice something about him other than his eyes. His shoulders were hunched toward his ears and he walked almost stiff, like he was unwilling to bend. It fit her automatic assessment of him being as energized as a live wire. She wondered what sort of strange man she'd put her faith into, even momentarily. She was bouncing shamelessly on her heels as they waited for the older woman to shuffle in her shopping cart. She didn't have to get all the way in before she remembered she didn't have any money and she faltered. Instead the man delved into his pocket and deposited two coins; enough for both of them. He let her go ahead of him, then, and he scoped out the bus as she picked a seat. He picked one directly next to her.

It was hard to tell who was more tightly wound out of the two of them. She had started to nibble at the edges of her perfect cuticles while her foot bounced relentlessly. He had spread his knees enough where his gloved hands could fit in the center but his eyes darted around the small interior of the bus restlessly.

"I think my husband is stalking me."

She said it so abruptly that it almost spooked her.

To his credit, the man didn't' visibly roll his eyes but she could hear that he wanted to in his sardonic reply, "Wouldn't that be uh…" He cleared his throat, the voice that was low and nasally all at the same time made her feel like he was mocking her. "A bit redundant…? I mean he's already got-uh you."

Underneath the collar of his coat, he licked his lips his eyes darting back to the blonde next to him. She was a pretty thing, probably all the prettier for the flushed cheeks and wide eyes. The man inclined his head to look at her meaningfully. Her attention darted to him and then in front of her, continuing to chew on her nail.

"It's a long story… I don't know what to do."

He let a long sigh run through his teeth and eventually made a snapping sound of shutting them together. "Well, we _are_ on a long bus ride…"

….

"I didn't know..." Mae started to say and then began to bite her nails again, much like she did on that fateful day almost a year ago.

Dr. Phillips waited. Once she realized that Mae was not going to elaborate, she leaned forward slightly to rest her elbows on her crossed leg. "You didn't know what?"

"I had no idea… I was meeting the Joker…" Mae's breath started to come quicker, her heart speeding. She practically felt the medicine that worked so consistently on her anxiety dull it down until she could speak again. "I don't even know if he was the Joker then… To me, he was some kind of… Some kind of…" She eventually thrust her hands forward, begging for the right word to fall from the sky. It didn't. So she slumped slightly into the chair, falling deeper into the cushion.

"What happened next?"

Mae stared at the ground, her generous mouth fixed into a fierce line even as she spoke.

"I told him everything."


	6. Help From a Stranger

**AN:** Joker is AWFUL nice to help a freaked out rich girl, right? I mean he couldn't **possibly** have another motive…right?

He listened to her story with a couple of _mm_ 's and _ahh_ 's and even one _tsk tsk tsk,_ but when she finished babbling, she was surprised to note the silence. His eyes avoided her since they'd been off the seat, in fact, they seemed to be looking in the driver's rear-view mirror so he could watch everything.

Eventually the next stop was announced and she felt reality creeping like the edge a vignette. "Where are you headed to?"

He raised his eyebrows, finally turning to observe her. " _Mee?_ Well… **I'm** not going _anywhere._ " He grinned. The only way she knew was the way his eyes crinkled. For a sparse second, Mae stopped breathing. Looking at him almost made her lose focus. She'd noticed it outside, but it was conspicuous and chilling now that they were out of the open air. She couldn't tell what it was, but it was as if he was some monument. He just dominated the area he was in like a lighthouse or perhaps a train wreck. She didn't know which one he was closer to… yet.

She was quiet for a longer time than polite or comfortable, but his eyes didn't twitch from hers. He knew what she was going to ask, but it didn't make him want to save her from doing so. In fact, he relished in her discomfort as she was slowly coming around to the realization that she was putting time and trust into a complete stranger off the street. Finally, it came. It was a soft voice that hesitantly inquired, "Why are you… helping me?" She frowned, because those weren't the right words. He wasn't currently helping her. "I mean… Why shield me? Why listen to me?"

His head cocked to the right. Underneath the tall collar of his monstrous coat his tongue flew out to wet the side of his lips. She read the question without him having to say it out loud; _Why wouldn't I?_

Flustered, she shook her hands out with her palms up. "You—I mean you paid for my bus fare, why? I'm a stranger…You're a stranger… This is Gotham we don't…"

Now he was shaking his head, and eventually he uttered in a quick soothing sound "Ah ah ah ah ah… It's not about being a **stranger**. It's about someone needing someone _else_ regardless of who that is."

This was the moment of truth. He could taste her trust was seconds away from being given under desperate circumstances. In truth, he hadn't expected this to happen so soon. Perhaps her doubt in her husband was expedited by something he didn't know yet. Now, was the only real chance she'd be open enough to trust a guy. like. him.

"You seeee…" He reached up a gloved hand, fingers swiftly undoing the top two buttons of his coat. His chin stretched as if it hadn't been exposed for some time. "There was a time when **I** needed help from a stranger…"

She stared, captivated by his words almost as much as she was taken by what he'd revealed. Stretching from his lips was a ever present grin with skin puckered and jagged as mountaintops. Some men had scars from acne or chicken pox. Some men had cuts from shaving too closely in the morning. But that was nothing, no way to describe what was visible underneath his enveloping jacket. He had a smile more terrible than any she'd ever seen, because it was completely comprised of two long jutting scars.

Mae watched as his lips formed his next words. For the last ten minutes or so, she'd been fascinated by a set of eyes that were obsidian in a pale face. Who knew that every bit of him was as demanding of attention?

"In **fact—"** he continued, " _I_ wouldn't be al _ive_ if It wasn't for a stranger who was uh **willing** to help _mee."_

His voice reminded her of a new player plucking on an instrument. Some of the words dragged on themselves and blended into the next and some were harsh and obtrusive by themselves. Overall, however, they felt like a metronome.

"Oh…" She released the sound involuntarily, more of an exclamation with a breath. He slowly ran his tongue over the fork in his bottom lip, purposely reminding her that she was gawking.

"Sooooo maybe uh some _thing_ has a sense of humor up **there.** " His eyes rolled accordingly up as one side of his mouth twitched in a half smile. They swiveled down to look at her, and he wondered if she'd ever notice her mouth had remained slightly open. "You ran into one of the only _people_ who would be willing to help a strang **er."** He raised one eyebrow, feigning apprehension as his eyes traveled down her neck and to her torso. She felt them travel along as if he'd actually taken one of his gloved hands and done it physically. " **Especially** a stranger who seemed to be a little _crazier_ than most." His eyes, lit up as he said it and he inclined his head toward her. "Given that she isn't even wearing a jacket in temperatures where it's advised to stay insiiide."

For a moment her dark brows crinkled. Truthfully, they were the only clue that she wasn't a natural Nordic blonde, given that she got touch ups every two weeks so roots never showed. Then, she did something wonderful. She _laughed._ He'd made his new hostage _practically_ _ **giggle.**_ Granted, she had no idea that she was a hostage, no idea that she was already in too deep. He had her.

"I was terrified." She said breathlessly, her ashen eyes finally lighting up.

He offered her a small grin back. "And how are you… now?"

She had to contemplate for a moment, leaning back into the bus seat. "Tired… But not terrified." She glanced back at him. "And… uh… cold heh." The small exclamation of a chuckle ended quickly. He practically saw her attention switch inward as she started to dread the inevitability of going home without a jacket or money.

He noted it and practically drank in the precariousness of her situation. She was getting more helpless with every mile that they drove away in the bus. The only reason she didn't feel that way was because she couldn't have felt _more_ helpless than when she was "safe" in her own apartment. "What you need is food… maybe coffee…" He mused, glancing up to see that they were two stops away from a place he knew.

Her eyebrows raised and she shook her head in disbelief. "You know I don't have money." It was a blunt and disgruntled statement. She didn't like admitting weakness but she had enough audacity and confidence to still assume some sense of control.

He was already waving her statement away. "Oh _please_." He grinned, a charming smile with lines that might have been dimples before his face had been gnarled up into what it currently was. "You'll owe me."

…..

Mae felt her eyes burn, and she stopped as her voice got tight. Dr. Phillips watched the scene carefully though her client's eyes stayed completely dry.

"I'd never felt so safe around someone so instantly before…" She sounded like she was speaking while physically being strangled. In truth, that's what it felt like. Asphyxiated by a memory.

 _What happened next?_ The doctor prodded. Professionalism aside, there was almost no way that she didn't want to know on a personal level as well.

Mae laughed, even though her diaphragm quivered as if she was actively crying. "We got Cantonese food." She closed her eyes at the memory. "I had no idea what it was. But it was greasy and hot when I was freezing and starving." Her eyes burned more insistently. Dr. Phillips noted the emotions getting to Mae, but she didn't comment or draw attention to it. She let her work it out on her own. In a moment, she did, her voice soft enough where the Dr. felt compelled to lean forward to hear, "He even made his chopsticks dance."

Dr. Phillips nodded solemnly, waiting to see if the blonde before her would continue. As their sessions had continued, it became clear that remembering what had actually happened had become a struggle. She'd repressed so much about what had happened. That was why she was put on house arrest instead of jail. That and the fact that, now, they all knew what the Joker could do. Hindsight was a gift that only their future selves got to have.

…

The giggle on the train was nothing compared to a red-faced Mae who was absolutely dying at the sight of him pretending his chopsticks were tap-dancing on the edge of his plate. He could even tell it wasn't _that_ funny. But she was borderline hysterical after a day that was too hard after many days that were too stressful, it had been too much.

" _Ta-Dah!"_ He finished the dance with a wiggling flourish and finally made the little wooden pieces fall down.

She clapped accordingly, quiet enough not to disturb the other patrons but loud enough to be complimentary. "Brava, Brava."

His fingers gave a little waggle, hamming it up for a moment before picking up the chopsticks normally. When he'd originally taken off his gloves and his coat, she'd hungrily tasted the appearance with her eyes. She'd wondered if it was going to be just as interesting as what she'd seen so far and in many ways it wasn't at first.

As she'd watched him, however, she was fascinated further by the way his long fingers moved and by the way he switched from hunching over with his shoulders and cocking his head to the side and sitting straight and proud for moments of contemplation. Little did she know that it was all an act meant to draw her in. As much of himself he was being, in truth there was very little…

"Jack." He finally answered with a grin. He hadn't laughed, this whole night. She would remember that as strange further down the line, but for now she hadn't noticed. "Jack Napier."

She'd asked who he was, and the face she was making meant she felt obviously dissatisfied by his abrupt answer.

He gave a nasally sigh and over dramatized his eye roll and spit off what might have been a lie but sounded too boring to not be true. "Gothamite born and raised. Don't like my parents, imagine they're still alive somewhere. Live by myself. More of a dog guy but don't have time for pets. I'm an engineer aaaaaaannd…" He paused, pretending to think. "My favorite color is uh probably greeee _n-_ uh" It wasn't funny, but his annunciation had her smiling regardless.

Her gray eyes were positively twinkling. Even in the dim light of the restaurant he could see the freckles that covered most of her face. She wasn't perfect. In isolation he actually didn't think her features would be pretty. The eyes were a dull color by themselves, her eyebrows were too dark compared to her hair and almost too bold to be in fashion. Then there was her strong stubborn chin. Somehow, together… it seemed to work.

Then again, Jack always did like to pick people apart.

"Mae. 27. Moved to Gotham when I was 14. My dad grew up in the narrows. And I'm married…" She paused, her face falling. "To some creep who may or may not be stalking me."

His elbows rested inappropriately on the table, his hands up by his mouth. At her admission, he calmly pried, "…And your favorite color?"

She gave him a withering stare, but her mouth was twitching at the corners. "Red."

His eyebrows rose so far that his forehead puckered and he mouthed the word _Red?_ As if that had been the exciting part of her biography. He raised his water dramatically. "To red…"

She looked at him with an exasperated expression but once it became clear he expected her to toast as well she lifted her iced tea. "To red…"


	7. Like the Setting Sun

**AN:** Suicide Attempt TW

"It was like he didn't have a plan…"

Mae continued as Dr. Phillips returned with more tea for the two of them. They'd been at it for an hour and a half. Mae could recall everything and she did so verbally. The police had noted her fixation on the Joker's movements. Dr. Phillips, however, focused on how taken the blonde was with Jack's entire persona. At the moment, she wouldn't have been able to tell who the most interesting client would be to have in front of her; Mae, or the Joker himself.

"I mean, I guess he didn't. There was no way he could have planned everything that happened but… he did want something…" Her words fell off into the ravine of her mind before she managed to drag them back from the recesses. "I'm unsure. Maybe he just wanted to fuck everything up."

They both let the thought cross their minds; if that's what he wanted, then he'd succeeded. Granted, one was too kind and professional to say so and the other just felt like it went without saying. Still, it managed to shift the mood and Mae stared off with a light scowl, her lips in a comical upside-down U.

"I think it's time we ended things, Ms. West."

If Mae noticed the use of her maiden name, she didn't flinch.

"I'll tell you the rest tomorrow…" And she would, at any cost.

….

That night was the sort of sleep that most people only got when they were ill. That open-mouthed-lines-of-the-sheets-imprinted-all-over-your-body-completely-unaware-of-where-you-were-when-you-woke-up kind of sleep. In fact, when she woke, she was convinced she saw…

But no, that's what the pills are for. At least in part. PTSD was just as much of a bitch as Iron Man made it look like. She went to her mirror. It was still dark, but she thought she could hear the birds chirping outside. Inside, it was so quiet that she could hear her feet sticking to the tile of her small bathroom. It was nothing like her apartment in central Gotham, but she was thankful.

In the mirror, she avoided her reflection by keeping her eyes downcast. It was second nature to her now. Where before she would have been fascinated by the puffiness to her eyes and the slight haze of pink over her cheekbones from a hard sleep. Now, mirrors always gave her a scare. Like when she was a child, she was afraid something would appear over her shoulder. Now, the reality of that happening, seemed too much to bare. Really, the amount of lorazepam she took made it pretty obvious.

It is too much to bare.

Back in her room, she got to her phone, and she opened up the video app and prayed she had enough storage.

…..

When Dr. Phillips got there, she didn't even bother knocking because she knew instinctively that it wouldn't be answered. She brought her phone out, in preparation, but didn't make the call. She was well-past retirement age. She'd been doing this for almost fifty years.

To be frank, she was probably the best.

Call it what you want, psychic ability or a hunch, but she knew that no one would open that door. That's why she was several hours early. She chose to bring the banana bread she'd made four loaves of this morning. Mae loved banana bread. When she woke up, she'd decided to make it for her, and before it even cooled—here she was. On the way, it was like the world was refusing to buffer. She drove so quickly that everything else couldn't catch up. Faster, faster and too quickly she was at the green door.

It wasn't quick enough.

Dr. Phillips had a key made for most of her patients on house arrest. She opened the door with more speed than she had a right to and she was in the house and searching through it with her frantic eyes. Not in the living room on her couch, not in her bathroom with the door closed, not in her bed looking listlessly at the wall no. Instead, she found her in the sun room on the hammock. Now, she began to call her name, more like a prayer than an exclamation that she expected to be answered. She shook the blonde's shoulder and it caused the rest of her body to move as if an earthquake had rocked her core.

Back in the car, she'd left the banana bread on the passenger seat and along with it, every expectation of a normal day. And on the coffee table, a phone with the post it on it;

 _To Dr. Phillips. I'm sorry._

 _-Mae_

… _._

 **AN:** Sorry for the short chapter. No worries, this is far from the end. I'm back to teaching now, so no chapters every day. I'm shooting for one a week, but I'll hopefully have this one out by tomorrow.


	8. With the SunRise

**AN:** Does Mae seem crazy to put all her trust into "Jack"? I guess we will figure out why! No worries, I didn't kill off our heroine In Medias Res. **Important for your understanding.** Just in case it gets confusing because reality starts blurring the lines of reality anything in present tense is _italicized_ for now.

 _It was only after Dr. Phillips; had ridden in the back of an ambulance, was asked a hundred questions about a situation she knew too much about, and had cried in the bathroom for a solid twelve minutes before putting herself together did she handle the phone in her purse delicately into the light._

 _They had to… treat Mae. She was legally able to know more details, but the only thing the good doctor heard ringing in her head was "she's alive… for now."_

 _Her hands shifted the phone, watching the screen dimly reflect her own face as she sat in the waiting room. She could go home, or back to the office to check on her other patients. She'd already called in though. She felt compelled to wait and perhaps…_

 _To listen._

 _Dreading what she was going to hear and all the while not knowing exactly what it would be, she put in her earbuds and opened the phone to a video recording of Mae. Just like their entire relationship, Mae was there with empty eyes and Dr. Phillips was there for her._

 _This time, it had just been a little too late._

 _Over the cheap earbuds, Mae's voice was clear,_

" _I had a plan… for the perfect life…His said his name was Jack. I'm still not sure if he's the same person that everyone knows as the Joker, but now that I've had some time to think I've realized that… in some ways… it was like I was asking for this to happen. I think I made the choice on the first night I met him…"_

…..

At the end of the night, when things got quiet, they were walking in Gotham's frigid wind. Only now, she had his coat. It fell past her knees, hitting her at tea length. In truth, she wasn't a short woman, she was built like a willow tree. But he _towered_. Frankly, he also seemed to like wearing an overcoat that only emphasized that.

For a moment, things were quiet. She was taking stock of what a strange night it had been, realizing that he had revealed almost nothing of himself. Opening up her mouth to react to this epiphany she stopped at his next words.

"You shouldn't call the cops… yet."

She blinked in quick succession. Feeling a quick flare of anger in her belly thinking that he didn't believe her, Mae prepared herself for a fight. Instead, he continued.

"The police might sweep it under the rug… You need proof." His tongue shot out the side of his mouth, his eyes facing skyward. "Well more concrete proof…"

The sharp inhale she'd been holding was released in a sigh that deflated her visibly. "…I was thinking about that too…"

He shrugged. "Well, you're missing some big pieces. He uh...He's gotta have a motive." He cocked his head slightly to his left, looking at her out of the corner of one dark eye. "There's almost _always_ a motive."

She thought for a second, and even the smallest breath of time made dread curl low in her stomach. The anger and the fear had hardened into a lump she couldn't swallow. "I don't want to go home…" She admitted it softly, sounding and feeling like a child.

He grinned privately to himself, glad she wasn't looking for the sake of the façade. It wasn't that hard, he could have taken her to where he lived, all she wanted him to do was to tell her he'd keep her safe. However, as much as he deceived, he very rarely outright _lied._

Instead, he moved like a pillar in front of her. It was under one of Gotham's many broken streetlights that a shadow took hold of one of the Elite using only his fingers. He pressed them into her upper arms to seem reassuring, in truth, he was trying to implant his will. She needed a push.

If she was shocked, she didn't show it. Instead, she looked up to him with wonder that he could practically feel. He knew about her. She'd be all spit and fire at one moment of perceived threat or insult. Now? No, now she was all willing flesh and imploring eyes.

"If you're going to do this… Then you need to commit, right here, to finding out what's happening to your life." He paused, meaningfully, he pretended he was thinking about his next words when in truth, he'd been excited about them for about a week and a half now. "Don't let him take con **trol** of your _life._ "

The streetlamp flickered like it was going to cast them in a glow, but sensing that it was intruding, it promptly went dark once more.

….

She crept in like a bandit. She wondered, briefly, if she would have the guts. Mae knew it couldn't be a question though. So instead of wondering, she walked in and rehearsed what she would say in the safe confines of her mind.

The lights were not on, which she felt was strange. If her husband had one night disappeared without his phone and the apartment door open… well, she wouldn't have gone to bed. She probably would have called the cops at the very least.

Moving less carefully now that there was no one immediately to greet her, she moved to the rooms off the living room and walked by Adrian's room and found further darkness. When she opened the door he was…

Well, he wasn't there. Feeling more than a little paranoid her head began to swivel over her shoulder, as if he was waiting behind her. Nothing.

So, she went to her room. And…

Nothing. Nothing… Nothing!

No one! No one was _home_.

However, she remembered then, the burner phone that she found in the bookshelf. She darted back to the room and flipped on the light to find that the books were as she left them but no phone.

There truly was _nothing_ here.

She didn't know whether to be relieved or terrified or perhaps concerned but either way it ignited a frenzy that had her darting to the office. With the words of a stranger ringing through her head she searched through her beloved husband's things and came up with a whole lot more _nothing._ Until….

She found a bank statement that was very different from the one that her and Adrian shared together. She only knew it was a bank statement because of the numbers and the set up but the language was something unfamiliar. She could only make a guess that it was some eastern part of the world. Russia? Maybe Greek? She didn't know, couldn't begin to fathom. She hoped that the currency was different than USD because there were a _lot_ of zeroes that she didn't know about.

In a slow second, holding the paper in her hand, her eye caught the blinking red light on the monitor. After all, who kept anything incriminating on paper? Even Mae, who had done nothing nearly as wrong as stalking her spouse, had some things to be guilty on in the dredges of her FaceBook messenger.

Some strangely persistent woman had taken hold of Mae. The scary part was that Mae was giving her a full range of motion and intention. She logged into his computer. It wasn't hard, she knew it was the anniversary of the day they met. _Easy to remember but impossible for someone else to know. It's not like our anniversary or anything like that… Plus, it's romantic._ Adrian's voice wiggled into the forefront of her mind and she shook her head to clear it even as the tears came around the edges of her eyes.

She checked his emails first. Nothing seemed to be amiss except for a couple of FaceBook notifications from his ex that made her cringe to know how much they still seemed to be talking. Otherwise, nothing convicting. She went up to the top right corner and clicked on the icon for other accounts. There was one that was a series of numbers that had been logged in. The tension in her shoulders had reached a crescendo and she was hunched over terribly as if to protect herself from the blow and then…

Turns out she didn't know the password to this email and it had been signed out.

Still…

She clicked 'forgot password' and thanked her lucky stars that the backup account was the one that was already logged in.

This one had _nothing_ in the inbox. So, if it wasn't shady enough to have an email account whose name was a bunch of numbers and a domain she hadn't heard of; then at the very least no emails in an inbox would have tipped her off.

She went to what was deleted but that was cleared as well. She sighed and wrote down the email address on the back of the bank statement. Just as she was about to leave her computer, a thought came over her and she bent back down over the keyboard. Maybe…

She clicked on the sent button and the world dropped out from under her feet and crashed on her head all the while piercing her chest with a sound that shattered everything else.

….

Jack had called her twice and now he was pacing aimlessly over the hardwood floors of _'his'_ apartment. From the caverns of his torso came a grumbling that emitted out of his mouth. Something along the lines of anger but also mixed with frustration and sprinkled with concern and drops of doubt.

The doubt wasn't for _her_. That pretty little blonde thing who went home in his coat. No no no no _no._ Jack, for one moment, was doubting himself.

Perhaps he'd read her wrong. Maybe she had gone home to tell her husband all about her strange evening. It was possible that she'd called the cops on _him_ as the man who was attempting to frame her husband. He'd been so sure of…

But no.

He'd seen her eyes. She was in deep. By the way she told her story, it sounded like the only person she'd even told about the stalking besides Adrian and himself was her one friend from work. He worried on the scars in his mouth, pursing his lips to chew on the inside. No no no no _no_. Something was _**wrong.**_ It seemed likely, all of a sudden, that he had gotten something wrong.

He'd assumed she was still safe in being sent home alone.

….

Mae woke up on a white bed. Her feet were in front of her, so she knew she was lying on her back, but for some reason she couldn't feel the mattress pillowed beneath her. Instead it was as if she was floating. She attempted to lift her arms but they felt so incredibly heavy that she couldn't. Instead she dispassionately observed the IV. She wondered what she was here for, she felt fine.

In fact, she recalled it all in a haze. Her life and troubles seemed so far away. In fact, she yearned to laugh about it. Felt a giggle bubbling up from her diaphragm and noted it move all the way to her throat. As funny as it suddenly seemed, however, she couldn't express the mirth. Instead it stayed on her lips and she turned her head to smile into the pillow. What a funny thing it all was. She'd been so close.

At that moment, someone came through a hole in the wall.

No, no. That wasn't a hole, it was a door. It only looked like a hole because the whole room was so white that a white door blended in. _Fascinating_. She wiped the smile off her face and looked to the man who was _also_ in a light color and she wondered if he knew that he was blending in to the wall. It tripped her eyes for a moment and then he spoke.

"Good morning Ms. West."

He came to her side, too quickly to see even at a casual walking pace. He'd checked the machines next to her and she stared at him like a drugged owl. All wide eyes and attention without any bodily movement or human response.

"You've been through a lot, Ms. West, there was a gunman in your apartment. You have been shot but you will make a recovery."

She heard him and her eyes got fractionally and impossibly wider. For a moment she searched the face of the nurse, wondering why he was blurry.

"How are you feeling?"

She wanted to shrug, or maybe smile. Instead, she deadpanned. "Fine. I feel great. Everything's good…"

He smiled politely. Or at least she thought it was polite. There was a chance he was making fun of her.

"That would be the morphine Ms."

She didn't respond, didn't know how to. Nothing was sinking in even if she was hearing it. Luckily she was saved from having to be a person at his next statement.

"You were lucky that your friend had a feeling. He was the one who found you." He continued after it became clear that Mae was going to continue looking at him suspiciously. "He'd like to come in and say hello, if you feel up to it."

Already she was nodding. "Yes… yes."

She must have fallen asleep the moment the nurse left for even a moment because one minute he was closing the door and the next Jack was standing near her bed. She didn't know the man well but she knew one thing well enough about him; he didn't _do_ awkward.

No, he wasn't awkward, but he looked.. restless. He was thinking quickly even while in front of her. Almost as if he didn't know if he should be there or not.

"Heeeeey _y_ uh, sunshine." And he grinned.

…..

 _ **Ah tah ta tu tum dum daaa**_ _he breathed the last note as a sigh. Truthfully the whole thing was irrelevant to him at this point. He'd gotten what he needed from her. Somewhere along the way, however, he'd bonded with the poor little rich girl in a way that he usually only bonded with the people who were going to face imminent death at his hands. But heeeerrr-uh well she'd suffered a face that only made her_ _ **want**_ _a piece of death._

 _In many ways, his little loose end was a asset to who he was. A spokesperson who depended on Gotham's monster in a way that vilified her to the public eye. Luckily, her story was simplified in a way that was lost on most people how truly significant her descent into madness was. She had plans for everything and just one little_ _ **push**_ _he'd already turned them on their side._

 _As usual, the people of Gotham weren't paying attention to something because it was swept under the rug so quickly. She was an early experiment, to be sure, but not one that he'd take kindly to being forgotten._

 _So, it was time for a little bit of his_ _ **attention.**_ _To shine some, uh, light on the situation._

 _He entered the hospital in the same way he did everything, as if he owned the place and had every right to be there. The woman at the front desk barley glanced up. It was hard for him to resist greeting Dr. Phillips, listening to Mae's sad story over a pair of headphones, but he did manage to restrain himself._

 _Instead he walked through the hallways with a fixed destination. He wanted to peer into the other rooms, see how the poor saps in the ICU were doing. However, he had to solidify he knew where he was going. As much as he'd love to schmooze his way into her room even under the watchful eye of a nurse in the middle of the night, he was on a tight_ _ **schedule**_ _. After all, no one knew he was out_ _yet._

 _When he opened the door, he'd expected her to be out, and he was delighted to find that he was right. It was always so much more fun to wake someone with his face rather than going into it with both eyes open. People were always so unguarded when they woke up and he wanted to see exactly what she thought of him_ noooow.

 _He lightly stroked her cheek, it was a mockery of gentleness on his part. Especially coming from gloved hands that had undoubtedly spilled blood within the last six hours._

" _Maaaae…" He singsonged in a growl of a whisper. "Mae, sunshine, we have places to beee."_

 _He grinned as she woke and when she did it was not with the vengeance that he was expecting and hoping for. No. She woke up, her eyes rounded the entire ceiling before resting on his form that was so oppressively crouched over her. He let her take him in as he patted her hair with a blunt hand. The reaction that had kept a bounce in his step as he thought about it the whole way here was as locked away more tightly than he'd ever seen._

 _Was she relieved that he'd found her after all this time after she'd done so_ much _to get his attention? Was she angry for the way things ended when they parted ways? Was she going to cry at the sight of his face, mangled as ever, but belonging to a person she'd put every bit of twisted trust into?_

 _No, she didn't give him any of that._

 _In a very Mae-West-right-after-a-suicide-attempt-and-the-weight-of-the-world-on-her-shoulders kind of fashion; her chin squared, she looked him in the eye and responded as regally as possible from someone in a hospital bed._

" _What could you_ _ **possibly**_ _need from me...?"_


End file.
